Safe
by WildestDreams93
Summary: "Sammy?" Sam looks up, locking eyes with his brother. He allows himself to smile, "Dean." Then, his arms are full of big brother and for the first time in days, Sam feels safe. Picks up at 6x01, but it's AU because Sam has his soul when he returns from the Cage. Non-Slash, just brotherly fluff.
1. Chapter 1

When Sam wakes up, he's freezing. And, not just in the way people say nowadays when it's slightly chilly outside. _Everything in him_ is freezing. It hurts to breathe. He doesn't even think he can move. But then he does. He's sitting up, blinking slowly as he looks up at the night sky when he realizes just how painful that movement was.

His entire body aches with pain. There isn't one part of him that doesn't hurt and he wonders if there was ever a time when he _didn't_ feel like this.

He doesn't give it a thought as to exactly _why_ his whole body hurts, because thinking about it would mean remembering and he's sure as hell not remembering all that… well, _hell_. Yeah, he remembered. He remembered _everything_ that happened in the Cage, but he locked it away. His brother's beaten and bloody face came to his mind.

 _Sam, it's okay. It's okay. I'm here. I'm here. I'm not gonna leave you._

He had to find Dean. He'd find his brother and then, maybe then, he'd allow himself to wallow. Sam stumbles to his feet, mind dizzy with thoughts, choosing to focus on the memories of a lifetime with his brother to keep him awake and standing. Christmases with Dean. Birthdays with Dean. Hunting with Dean. His last moments with Dean. Despite his violent shivering, he wraps his arms around his middle. He starts walking with one person on his mind.

He goes to Lisa's, but _he_ isn't there. Sam doesn't even have to knock on the door to realize that. The impala isn't in the driveway and he feels disappointed. He stays there for a few minutes, merely watching as Lisa ushers Ben outside and they get into the car. Sam suddenly can't stand to be there one more second. He isn't sure where he's going, but he feels the need to get there quick. He hotwires a different car and speeds the entire way.

It takes him a few more days before he reaches Bobby's. It's the middle of the day and the sun beats down on him, but he's freezing. He briefly wonders if he will ever get to feel warm ever again.

He stands in the back yard, surrounded by hundreds of cars in all different kinds of messed up and suddenly he isn't sure why he is here. Bobby was _dead_. Flashes of Bobby's neck being snapped before Sam jumped into the Pit pop up in his mind. Sam has to fight to keep it together as he makes his way up the front steps. Images from the Cage start to resurface and it takes everything in him to keep from screaming, sobbing, and throwing himself to the ground. He sits on the porch, cradling his head so tightly that his fingers turn white. He does this long enough for the sun to set and for him to get his shit together.

He shakily stands up. Dean's face comes to his mind again. His brother was the reason he was here. He _had_ to be here, because Sam wasn't sure how much longer he could hold himself together. If you could even call it that.

Sam stumbles inside and the door shuts behind him, quietly. Sam stands in the hallway of the house that feels like _home_. He lets himself smile, feeling content for the first time in days. He's out…. he's _out_ and he's not even ashamed at the sudden tears that make their way down his face. No more Lucifer.

After a few moments of rejoicing, he remembers that Bobby is freaking _dead_ and he needs to find his brother. He quickly moves to the study.

Sam comes to a halt before he even steps inside the study. Oh, yeah, he found Dean. _Thank God_ , he lets himself think, watching his brother bite his lip as he read a book. He nearly let out a laugh at the sight. But that isn't all he found. Bobby was sitting there at the cluttered desk, also, pouring over a book.

He must have let out a noise because suddenly he's faced with two angry hunters who think Sam's not _actually Sam_. He ignores their angry words as he's pushed against the wall. He squeezes his eyes shut, fighting back memories from the Cage because it seems that's the only thing his mind can think of. He struggles against them, but it's no use. His heart pounds painfully in his chest, making him want to cry. He thought he was out.

"It's me… it's _me_ , I promise…" He pleads, but it's no use. Bobby cuts him with a silver knife while Dean splashes holy water in his face. They do everything they can without actually killing him to confirm whether or not he's telling the truth and when they're _finally_ done, everyone sounds like they've just run a freaking marathon. Sam smirks at the thought of Dean willingly participating in a marathon. Sam leans against the wall when they let him go because he's dizzy and isn't so sure he won't either: throw up or pass out right then and there.

"Sammy?"

Sam looks up, locking eyes with his brother. He allows himself to smile, "Dean."

Then, his arms are full of big brother and for the first time in days, Sam feels safe.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"How…." Dean questions, eyebrows furrowing as he sits in the chair right across from the sofa, where Sam sat. "Just… how?"

Sam laughs—actually, laughs—at the look on his brother's face. Dean looks like he wants to cry at the sound, but smiles. Bobby even cracks a smirk, which says a lot.

"I don't know." He wraps the blanket around him tighter, but it's useless. He's still freezing. He swallows before continuing, "I woke up in the field…"

He tells them everything he knows, well, not everything because that would just be cruel.

"That all you remember?" Dean asks, hesitantly, knowing just how fragile the subject of Hell could be on a person. Sam swallows back bile that makes a sudden appearance.

"Yeah." He struggles to say, but manages it. The look his brother gives him lets him know that he wasn't convincing at all.

"Well, shit, son." Bobby drawls, rubbing a hand over his beard, and gives Sam a sad smile. "You need anything?"

They've probably asked him that a billion times since forcing him to sit on the old couch in the middle of the study, but this time, Sam's answer is different.

"Got any coffee?" Sam asks, just wanting to hold a hot beverage, "I'm…I'm freezing."

 _Sorry if it's a bit chilly. Most people think I burn hot. It's actually quite the opposite._

Dean snaps out of the haunting memory and goes to the closet in the hallway to get his brother another blanket. He drapes it on top of Sam, frowning in concern before plastering on a neutral expression as he sits next to his brother. His brother who is very much alive. Dean feels a little clench of his heart when Sam gives him a small smile.

"You got it." Bobby immediately stands up and slaps him on the back as he goes to the kitchen. Sam tries to hold back his wince, but it's no use. Dean's already moving and hands him a pill, along with a cup of water. Sam doesn't hesitate before taking it and sipping down the water. Sipping turns to gulping and suddenly he's parched. Dean instantly replaces it with another glass and Sam eagerly drinks this one just as much as the last.

"I forgot," he whispered, handing back the glass and wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

"You forgot what, Sammy?" Dean's voice is gentle, as if he will break any second. Sam's thankful for that.

Sam looks his brother in the eyes with a watery smile, "What water tastes like."

It was meant to be a joke. Lighthearted and fun, but it just brings them both down.

Dean says nothing, but he doesn't have to. He merely squeezes the back of his kid brother's neck and clenches his jaw in anger. They're quiet for a while, listening to the sound of Bobby making noises in the kitchen. Sam rubs at his eyes with one hand.

"Sam?" Dean asks, "When's the last time you slept?"

Sam shrugs and that's enough for Dean. The kid looks like he's about to face plant right then and there.

"Alright, sasquatch, let's get you to bed."

"But… coffee." Sam weakly protests as Dean helps him stand. Sam wobbles and Dean's hold gets tighter, holding his brother steady.

"You can have some later."

Sam sighs, but allows his brother to lead him up the stairs. He didn't realize just how tired he was until his head hit the pillow. He absently thinks that the bed is way comfier than the ground he woke up on just a few days ago.

"I'm sure it is, Sammy," a warm voice chuckles, "get some sleep."

Oh. He said that out loud. Sam lets himself smile before drifting away.

* * *

Blood.

Pain.

Lots of pain.

Screaming.

Sam gasped harshly, sitting straight up in bed. He blinked, clearing his eyes of the tears. He tried to get his heart to slow down but that was hard to do with visions of Hell dancing around in his head.

He looked around, seeing Dean sprawled out on the other bed, snoring. Sam stared for a few moments. By this time Lucifer would already have him back in chains and start beating the holy hell out of him. So, it wasn't a dream. He was really out. He forced himself to calm down. Dean would freak if he saw him like this.

He slowly makes his way to the bathroom, his body protesting his every movement, but leaves the light off. He leans on the counter and just… stares at his reflection in the mirror. Physically, he looks the same. Well, except for the haunting look in his eyes. He was going to have to do a better job of covering that up. Dean would want him to talk about it, eventually. Merely the thought of telling Dean what all had gone down in the Pit causes his stomach to roll. It wasn't that he was afraid Dean would judge him or anything. He just didn't want to burden his brother with his nightmares. Flashes of the Pit flicker in front of his eyes and that determines it. He clenches his jaw. He couldn't. He wouldn't tell Dean. Living through it was torture enough. Telling his brother about his experience would be a whole new level of Hell he isn't sure he will ever be ready for.

He forces himself to move away from the mirror and does his business. When he's washing his hands, he avoids looking at his reflection again. He takes a long shower, relishing in the wonder that is decent water pressure. This was his first shower in days and it felt like Heaven. After looking for his brother at Lisa's and coming up empty, he only stopped to steal some food from a gas station as he hotwired different cars to avoid suspicion from local authorities and that was about it.

Loud voices startled him out of his thoughts and he couldn't help the scream that came out of his mouth. He panics and moves against the wall of the shower, heart pounding in his chest. He waits for the pain. For the blood. Anything, really. But there's nothing. He peels his eyes open and slows his breathing. He doesn't hear blood-curdling screams or Lucifer. He only hears his brother pounding on the door to the bathroom. Sam breathes heavily in relief, remembering two things: he locked it and he was out. He was among the living again.

"SAMMY?"

Shit. His brother had that tone in his voice that he was seconds away from kicking the door in.

"Uh, occupied, Dean. I'll be out soon."

"Damn it, Sammy." He heard his brother snap, but he could hear the relief in it. "You alright?"

Sam pauses. Was he alright? HA. As if. He was so far from alright that it nearly made him laugh or sob. He isn't sure which one, but neither would keep Dean from kicking down Bobby's bathroom door.

"I'm peachy. Now leave me the hell alone so I can shower in peace."

He finishes showering quickly and wraps a towel around his waist before turning to exit the bathroom. That's when he sees the scars lining his entire upper body. He gasps as he does, leaning closer to the mirror. They're everywhere and he turns to see if it's the same on his back. He can't believe he missed it during his shower, but he blames it on the pills Dean gave him. Yep. Hundreds of scars, and not one of them looks insignificant. They're healed, but they're ugly and Sam feels himself start to lose it again. Damn, when did he become such a pansy?

Oh. Right. When he was Lucifer's bitch in the Cage.

At least it wasn't my face, he thinks bitterly. Lucifer always liked his face. The thought made him want to vomit.

"Sammy?"

Damn it, Dean, Sam thinks angrily, can't I just have one moment—and then he stops himself. He can't blame his brother for wanting to keep an eye on him. It had been… well, he isn't exactly sure of how long he was… down under… and made a mental note to find that out.

"I'm fine… I'm fine." He isn't sure if he's trying to convince himself or his brother. "Will you grab me some clothes? I'm freezing."

He can practically hear the wheels turning in his brother's head. The silence stretches on so long that Sam hopes that he actually did what he asked. However, there weren't footsteps so Sam knows his brother's response before he even says it.

"Why don't you come on out here and get 'em?"

Sam wipes away his tears and nods, more to steady himself than answering his brother. He wants to beg his brother to do what he asked, but he doesn't have the energy. He unlocks the door and slowly opens it, adjusting the towel around his waist with the other hand. He exits the bathroom and keeps his eyes on the ground as he makes his way to his bed.

"What took you so long, Samantha?" Dean jokes, but Sam can pinpoint the exact moment his brother sees his scars. Sam squeezes his eyes shut, not wanting to see the expression on his brother's face.

"Please, Dean. Get me some clothes." His voice is hoarse.

He doesn't expect a response and he doesn't get one. All he hears is the sound of footsteps retreating quickly down the stairs. Sam opens his eyes and swallows. He looks down at his hands, which are shaking violently. Pull it together, he tells himself.

It isn't long before footsteps are making their way back up to him and Sam steels himself for a round of "Sam, chicks dig scars, it's fine" and "they aren't bad, Sam." He doesn't look up, but quickly grabs the clothes from his brother before his older brother can even open his mouth and enters the bathroom.

* * *

"I'm telling you, Bobby. They weren't… _normal_ , scars. It looked like something… some rabid animal had shredded him. Completely." Dean's voice cracks at the end, but both men ignore it.

"Well, I don't doubt they would be, Dean," Bobby snips, but there's no heat in his voice. "He just got out of the Cage. _Nobody_ has ever done that before. There's no telling what they did to him down there—"

"I know that." Dean snaps, running a hand down his face before reaching for the cup of coffee, "I just…"

"Just what, Dean?" the older man pauses before picking at what seems to always be an issue, "This ain't your fault, boy. So help me if you start going on that self-pity shit I'm going to have to do something I'll regret."

Dean looks up, locking eyes with his father figure and smiles. It was Bobby speak for "i'm worried too, but it's going to be okay."

So, they enjoy their silence for a while until they hear footsteps on the stairs. Dean stands up, rushing to help his brother. Sam accepts his help in guiding him to the kitchen and lets out a breath when he finally sits down.

"So, how long was I out?" Sam asks, avoiding eye contact with either one of the other men.

Dean frowns, knowing exactly why his brother was acting like this and wishing he would just _look him in the eyes_ , damn it.

"20 hours more or less." Bobby supplies, "How you feelin'?"

Sam wants to say, "like I just got out of Hell and am trying to figure out how to fit back into normal society," but he doesn't.

"I'm…" He catches Dean's eye and forces himself to say the truth, "adjusting."

"Adjusting? That's one word for it," Dean snorts and Bobby glares at him. Sam seems to shrink in on himself and Dean sighs. He pours his brother a cup of coffee and slides it over to him as an apology, "Sam—"

Sam takes the coffee and sips it. It's not even close to tasting good. At least, not to him. It tastes like ash. He sits it back down, but continues looking at his hands.

"Any ideas as to who could've pulled me out?" He interrupts, sounding more tired than he ever had, despite having just slept for nearly a day.

"Not a clue. We're getting Cas on it—"

"Cas?" Sam's head snaps up, "Cas is alive?"

"Yeah, who do you think brought this old timer back?" Dean gestures to Bobby. Bobby merely glares at Dean, while Dean grins.

"Huh." Sam says and it's so _Sam_ that Dean feels his smile fall away and swallowing past a lump in his throat. "Wait, so who brought Cas back?"

They're both silent.

"What?" Sam asks, "Tell me."

"God." Bobby croaks, knowing exactly how Sam was going to react.

Sam's face goes from curious to expressionless in one second. His jaw clenches and his hands shake. _So, God just left me in there to rot…_

Angels saved Dean from Hell, but nobody can be bothered to lift a damn finger to get him? Then, it all made sense. Of _course_ they left him there, his mind screamed at him. He is the anti-Christ. He is Satan's bitch-boy. He is _deserving_ of the Cage and so much worse.

"God…" Sam laughs, and it's bitter and it's raw and it's… painful to hear coming out of Dean's little brother. He stares above his brother's head, "right. Of course."

Fan-fucking-tastic.

"Sammy," Dean's voice breaks.

Sam stands up suddenly and sways on the spot, looking like he's going to pass out. Dean moves to help him, but Sam shakes his head as he leans on the table briefly before turning to move away, "I'm going to lie back down."

"Oh no you're not." Dean argues, glaring at him as he forced him to sit back down in the chair. Sam would've glared back, if he had the energy, "you're going to sit your ass right here and not go lie down and think your emo thoughts about how you think God just left you there to rot because, what? You _deserved_ it?" He pauses to catch Sam's eye, "Sammy, you _saved_ the world."

"Yeah," Sam laughs, brokenly, "after I nearly destroyed it. Face it, Dean, God _should've_ left me down there."

"Listen here," Dean snaps, "you're a good man—the best I know, actually— and you _didn't_ deserve it. You've gotta believe that."

Sam sits there quietly, listening but not believing.

"Why am I here?" Sam croaks finally, tears filling his eyes, " _Why_ am I here?"

"I don't know," Dean moves and pulls his brother against his chest and Sam lets him as he falls apart, "But I'm so damn _glad_ that you are."


	3. Chapter 3

To say he was embarrassed would be an understatement. He's been back one day and he's already _cried_ in his brother's arms. _You're pathetic,_ Lucifer's voice taunts him in his head and Sam knows he's got to get his shit together. He feels his cheeks flush when his brother pulls away, patting his head affectionately. Sam pushes the thoughts of Lucifer into the back of his mind, in a closet and locks the door. He doesn't look up; choosing to keep his eyes on the cup of coffee that sits in front of him as he quickly wipes away his tears. To make matters worse, he cried like a girl in front of Bobby. Bobby. He nearly groans but only barely manages to stop himself.

"So, uh, how long was I down there?" He says, an attempt to get rid of the silence.

"About a year and a half." Dean finally responds, moving back to his chair but instead of sitting in it, he just drags it closer to Sam's. Then, he sits in it and knocks his knee against Sam's. It's okay.

Sam shoots him a shy, but grateful, smile then frowns, "A year… and a half?" then he pauses and shakes his head. He decides to not think about that fun fact for now. "So, does Cas know—"

"Hello."

Bobby, Sam, and Dean jump and turn to face the new addition. Cas stands there awkwardly and gives Sam what he thinks is a kind smile. It turns out like it normally does—awkward and creepy. Sam gives him an awkward one back.

"Jesus—Cas, warn a guy, will ya?" Dean exclaims, glaring at the angel. Castiel shifts awkwardly, continuing to stare right at Sam.

Sam swallows before nodding, "So, have you found anything about why I'm back?"

Castiel gives him a contemplative look, almost puzzling. It looks like the angel is studying Sam. Sam fidgets in his seat, shooting glances at Dean.

"Cas. Quit it." Dean demands, "What'd you find out?"

"Nobody knows—or well, more specifically, nobody is talking about who or what brought Sam back."

"Great," Sam says sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"You expected our luck to start now?" Bobby quips, causing Sam to laugh.

"No, I guess not." Sam smiles at Bobby warmly, before sighing. His head starts to throb and he barely manages to cover his wince. Avoids eye-contact with his brother, knowing exactly what he'd see. "Well, now what?"

"Now," Dean stands up from the table, stretching, "we get you fed and back into bed—"

"Dean—"

"Sam, this isn't a negotiation. You just got back from…" Dean doesn't say Hell, but Sam flinches like he did anyway, "...a hiatus. You need food and rest. Lots of it."

Sam sighs, running a hand over his face. He doesn't want to admit it, but that plan kinda sounded good to him. He hasn't been up for very long but he still feels dead tired—pun intended.

"Fine," Sam sighs, in that classic 'this sucks' way that he's perfected over his many years as a younger brother and a Winchester.

"Knew you'd see it my way," Dean grins and makes his way into Bobby's kitchen.

* * *

"Cas, can I talk to you for a second?"

Cas looks away from the sofa where he's been watching Sam sleep for the past few minutes to look at Dean.

"Of course."

Dean proceeds to tell Cas about Sam's scar... collection. The angel looks intrigued.

"Interesting," is all Castiel says and it takes everything in Dean to not strangle the angel.

"So, do you think you could heal 'im?" Dean questions, but forces himself to not feel too hopeful. The scars look extremely painful and also serve as a reminder of memories that Sam doesn't need to remember.

Castiel shrugs and moves toward Sam.

"Now?" Dean whisper-shouts, eyes wide, before he shakes his head in aggravation.

Castiel puts a hand on Sam's shoulder and immediately his hand starts to glow, attempting to heal Sam. Dean feels himself filled with dread, hoping that this doesn't hurt his brother. Sam wakes up in the middle of it, but it's anticlimactic. He merely stares up at Castiel and then blinks at Dean, sleepily. Something in Dean's chest tightens as he remembers a much younger and smaller Sam looking the exact same way after waking up from a nap. Cas eventually takes his hand off Sam and puts it back by his side.

"Well?" Dean demands, "Did it—"

"No," Castiel interrupts, "It didn't."

"What were you doin'?" Sam's voice slurs, "Tryin' to heal me?"

"We tried," Castiel says before Dean can stop him. "but we failed. I'm sorry, Sam."

"Shocker," Sam says bitterly before rolling over so he's facing the inside of the couch and going back to sleep.

"But he's okay?" Dean asks Castiel, before wincing. No, his brother may be free but he was nowhere near the vicinity of 'okay.' "I mean… physically."

"His body is recuperating. It is fascinating that he's as well as he is. Whoever pulled him out of the cage not only had to retrieve his soul but also his physical body. It had to be extremely powerful to do so without extensive damage to either Sam's soul or body. It could have been far worse." He pauses then looks at Dean, "He will heal, Dean."

Dean nods in acceptance and opens his mouth to say something else when Cas gets a weird look on his face and then vanishes without a word. The older Winchester shakes his head in annoyance.

"You'd think I'd be used to that by now," he mutters softly, not wanting to wake Sam. He gently throws another blanket over his shivering brother and makes his way to the kitchen.

* * *

Sam wakes up in his bed—which is confusing because he could've sworn he fell asleep on a couch—

"Mornin' sleeping beauty."

Sam looks up, seeing his brother standing in the doorway with a cup of coffee. He's wearing different clothes than when Sam last saw him and one glance out the window tells him it looks about mid-afternoon, which is crazy because he feels like he's been sleeping for more than a few hours.

"Mornin'" Sam responds softly, rolling over onto his back and stretching. He yawns, rubbing at his eyes before saying, "I didn't sleep for an entire day again, did I?"

Dean merely takes a sip of his coffee to avoid answering. Sam narrows his eyes at his brother. Dean's silence is answer enough.

"Dude, we've got to find out who brought me back. I can't do that if I'm asleep all the time. Chances are, this is something big and bad and we've got to—"

Dean rolls his eyes and gives him the 'calm down' gesture with one hand as he makes his way into the bedroom.

"Don't go getting your panties in a twist, Sammy. We got people on it. Right now, all you gotta worry about is resting."

Dean sits on the opposite bed, nursing his coffee.

"I'm tired of resting," Sam groans, running a hand over his face. He looks at Dean, noticing the look of disbelief before sheepishly admitting, "Okay, i'm tired of being tired."

"I know you are," Dean replies, tone unusually soft, "but you'll get better. You just gotta give it time."

Sam wants to say that it doesn't matter how much 'rest' he gets, he's never going to be the same. Not after falling through that hole. Not after being bunk buddies with Lucifer. Sam stomach lurches at the sudden rush of memories. Dean gives him a look that says he's not as good at hiding things as he thinks he is and Sam knows he's gotta change the subject quick. He opens his mouth to do just that as he sits up. A sharp pain in his head causes him to stop halfway. He lies back down on the bed, clutching his head. This feels… achingly familiar to him but his head hurts too much to put the pieces together.

"Sam?" his brother calls, worriedly. But, to Sam, it sounds like he's underwater. There's a crash coming from somewhere, but he barely notices.

"Dean," is all Sam says but that's all it takes.

He feels his brother pull him back onto the bed and that's when Sam blacks out.


End file.
